


The Branch

by BrennaCeDria



Series: An Alternate Hawke [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrennaCeDria/pseuds/BrennaCeDria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From an anonymous prompt a while back on Tumblr for "alt!Ria, magic/magical" of any sort. This prompt ended up becoming the moment that my alternate Ria Hawke officially branches off from my main canon for her. Though Bethany's death in the Deep Roads is the catalyst that leads up to this scene, this is the moment where she makes her choices that separate her from my canon Ria Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Branch

“Could you have saved her, were you there? If I’d forced you to come with us, would there have been anything you could have done to help?”

Word had travelled quickly when what remained of their expedition returned from the Deep Roads after being gone so many weeks. The majority of her friends who had stayed in Kirkwall came to her immediately to see what help they could offer—mostly meals and comfort for herself and her mother, who’d now lost two children in the span of a single year, followed a few weeks later with help furnishing and moving into their new home.

But not Anders.

Four months had passed since Ria, Varric, and Isabela returned from underground without Bethany, but the runaway Grey Warden was nowhere to be seen. Four months in which the former Amell estate had become the Hawke estate, when what should have been housewarming parties became somber affairs with the hostess excusing herself after as little as an hour. And now, two months of waking each morning in the master bedroom of her grandfather’s former home to stare at the staff that hadn’t been moved since she first entered the room and placed it over the mantle.

She couldn’t take it anymore—not seeing that staff each morning, and not asking the question that was started on her lips and settled into an unpleasant part of her stomach as she killed her own baby sister out of mercy.

So now she stood in the doorway of Anders’ clinic with Bethany’s staff in hand, ignoring his patients, asking him directly the question that all her companions knew had been eating at her all this time. Not that she had to say the words for him to know what she wanted; the moment he saw her face, his own fell. Finishing quickly with his current patient, he took her by the arm and led her to the back of the clinic.

“How are you?” It was an idiotic question to ask, but it seemed as if he was just as afraid to answer her as she’d been to ask. Tired grey eyes held his for an eternity before she ignored his question and asked again.

“Could you have saved her?”

Another long silence, then a deep sigh. “No, Hawke, not if she had been infected with the taint as Varric said. Once a person’s been infected, there’s nothing magic can do to cure it. I know it’s terrible, but what… happened afterward… was the only way to spare Bethany even more suffering.”

And for the first time in four months—the first time with an audience, at least—Ria let herself cry. Anders found her a relatively clean rag and dampened it so she could wipe at her face, but otherwise just stepped away and let her run through her grief. At first she clung to the staff for support, but as her sobs grew worse her grip eased and she slid down to the dirt floor just laid there crying, clutching the staff to her chest and she didn’t react when one blanket was draped across her and another bundled and placed under her head.

“Hawke, do you have your cellar key with you? I can get you home without causing a fuss for you if so.” Sniffling, Ria shook her head. “It’s alright then, I’ll find someone who can go fetch Varric, and he can go to your house and let us in from the cellars himself. No scenes.”

She nodded in agreement and Anders began to make his way back to the front of the clinic to find someone to find the dwarf. When he returned he had a potion in hand that he pressed to her lips until she drank, then he scooped her up and carried her to a nearby cot.

“Just rest here, and we’ll get you back home soon, Hawke,” he whispered as the potion began to take effect and exhaustion replaced grief. He was about to step away when she grabbed at the sleeve of his coat suddenly, then pointed at the staff abandoned on the floor where she had been lying.

“I want you to keep Bethany’s birchcore,” she mumbled through the medicine with some effort. “I can’t use it, and I can’t stand to see it anymore. Use it, store it, whatever you feel is best. But however it is or isn’t used, it belongs in the hand of a free mage.”

Squeezing her hand, Anders nodded then retrieved the staff and placed it carefully on a table next to his own.

“Anders, you were right, you know.”

“About what, Hawke?”

“Maybe a year ago we could have had something. But neither of us are who we used to be, are we?”

The mage’s head hung, hiding his face. “No, we aren’t who we used to be at all.”

“I’m still going to help you once this… fades… though. Father and Bethany got to live free, there’s no reason the rest of you shouldn’t as well.”


End file.
